Tuesday, 9 July 2013

Move On Now

During my weeks of being horrendously depressed over
everything with R, I have become quite a collector of “inspirational” quotes
and can confidently say I have read every “How To Get Over Your Ex” website
that has ever existed.

Some things that are listed on said websites are horrendous.

Some sounded like they would work.

Some did work.

Some were hilarious.

I have tried many of their suggestions with varying degrees
of success, and here are my findings:

Cut up a photo of
you together

A classic.

I have since learnt
that apparently this is best done in a fit of pique and when you are filled
with rage and anger and that ripping up a love filled photo of happier days can
bring great satisfaction.

…I did not do it under said circumstances. In fact I was feeling
very empty. Very flat. And in an attempt to feel something decided this would
be a good idea. I was just left with handfuls of photo confetti and an apathy
towards cleaning up the mess I’d just made.

Do something
solely for you

I have had dyed red hair for a very long time, but in
February, R and myself had pretty much all our hair cut off, and this left me
with an opportunity I had been wanting for a while.

I could dye my hair a colour that wasn’t red. (For those who
don’t know, red is a notoriously difficult colour to get out of your hair, but
no one told me this when I was foolish and 17 and I’ve had varying degrees of
dirty red hair ever since.)

For a while, I’ve wanted to dye my hair blonde. But R would
always pull a slightly disgusted face and inform me that she never really found
blondes attractive (…ironicly).

But now me and my new blonde hair don’t give a fuck.

Have no contact

This wasn’t exactly one I could efficiently do seeing as we
lived together for a month or so immediately after…which was awful.

I don’t know if cutting off contact entirely would be a
great move, but less certainly would have been better. I was slowly falling
apart when I lived in the same house as R. Not fun.

I think the ideal amount of contact for everyone will be different.

…Don’t sleep with them though.

That should be a given.

…apparently.

Throw away/sell
anything they bought/gave you

Now I am in fact a hugely sentimental person, so
throwing/selling/burning all mine and R’s little gifts and cards and love notes
and letters doesn’t appeal to me.

I’ve compromised and stuffed everything into
a shoebox now safely tucked under my bed.

This was oddly cleansing though. Absolutely everything is in
there. From the white-gold necklace from our 2 year anniversary to the teddy she
once won me at a fairground. The receipt from our first date, a mix CD she made
me, valentines cards, photos of us that were once stuck on our mirror. All in
the box. And for a good long time that box shall stay firmly seleotaped shut
and hidden away.

Break something
precious to them

No.

I mean, I’m upset and angry. I am however, not 5 years old.

Saying that though, my Mother told me that she could pin
point the moment when she started moving on from her then Husband. She retold
me (with great relish I may add) that she had taken his favourite, hand cut,
crystal whiskey glass, headed outside, and hurled it with all her strength at
the shed. She said it shattered into a million pieces, and though she then did
have to spend the next hour sweeping it all up to make sure my siblings and I
didn’t cut ourselves on it, it was worth it a thousand times over.

(You don’t know my Mother, but she is one of the most timid
and kind people, the thought of her purposely destroying something someone held
dear is both hilarious and alarming.)

But anyway, I gave this idea a miss.

Do something you
never would have done before

I’m going to Germany!

Lord, it is without a doubt the scariest thing I have ever
decided to do. Not only am I moving to a new place where I will know no one, I
don’t even speak the language fluently.

I’m leaving my little comfortable island of rain and tea for
a landscape of Weinerschniztle and Bratwurst.

But it’s all for me.

I decided to do it entirely on my own. It’ll be a very new,
very clean, very shiny slate.

And I can’t bloody wait.

Friends

This is one of the rare times where I’m sad that my friends
don’t know I write all this (apart from you, F), because every single one of my friends has just
been the most fantastic person to me the last month.

From offers of places to stay to spontaneously arranged
girls-nights in with wine, chocolate, bad movies and facemasks all provided. I
don’t know how they’ve put up with my moaning and impulsive bursts of anger
followed by impromptu hysterical crying because I didn’t think I’d studied
enough for my exams.

And they’ve definitely been the thing that has helped me the
most.

So a big anonymous thanks to all my friends and to all the people who have helped their own friends though break ups. I know it must be a bit of a drag for you. We know you're sick of hearing about our exes. But thanks for doing it for us.Now pass the wine.